Storm Watch
by M C Pehrson
Summary: Story #84 A quarrel between Spock's daughter and Kirk's son becomes a quarrel between the two men when a secret is revealed.


Aside from the food, what Jim Kirk liked most about Thanksgiving was the simple pleasure of friendly company. Ever since the year of the Big Quake, he had tried to share this day with Spock and various members of the Vulcan's family. On that first Thanksgiving following the destruction of Spock's San Francisco home, Spock's son Jamie—who was nine at the time—had expressed a desire to live near his "Uncle" Jim. Now Spock owned the neighboring property free and clear. In August he had made an early payoff on Jim's note, including all interest that would otherwise have accrued. Spock had insisted that Jim was entitled to the added income.

"You'll never get rich that way," Jim had teased.

Now his antique clock ticked on the mantel of his ranch house as he sat across from Spock, studying a 3-dimensional chessboard. It was the Vulcan's turn, and a mouthwatering aroma of roasting turkey made it increasingly difficult to concentrate. The dinner table was set. Off in the kitchen Antonia, T'Naisa, and Tru rattled pans full of tempting side dishes. Young Sam and Tess played with toy figures near the fireplace, but the logs on the hearth were not lit. Here it was, almost December, yet the weather continued to be unseasonably warm and dry.

Spock raised his knight one level and said, "Checkmate."

"What?" Jim perked up and stared at the board, his rumbling stomach forgotten. "Is not!" Reaching out, he proved it by sending a bishop on a suicide mission that freed his beleaguered king.

Spock settled back, his Vulcan face unreadable as he took stock of the game. "It would appear," he said at last, "that I was mistaken."

Smiling, Jim savored the admission. Spock was so seldom wrong. In chess, never. And now the Vulcan was tarrying over his next move.

"Take your time," Jim said graciously.

Spock's eyebrow was rising when Sam's voice intruded.

"Mine!" he shrieked.

"Is not!" Tess countered.

"Is so! You gave it to me!"

"Just to look at! Now give it back!"

The men turned their attention to the squabble. Alerted by the childish voices, Antonia and T'Naisa had come out of the kitchen and stood wiping their hands on their aprons. Tru was right behind them. Then Tess grabbed at Sam and the children began to wrestle.

"Hey, stop that!" Jim said sharply to his son.

"Tess!" T'Naisa reproached her daughter.

Although Sam was much smaller, the four-year-old maintained possession of the coveted object. The instant Tess let him go, he ran to Jim with his little fist clenched over the treasure.

"Daddy," he cried, "it's mine! See? Tessie gave it to me!"

As Sam handed over the source of their argument, Tess stamped her foot in frustration. "No, it's _my_ egg…from _my_ creek! Sammy can't have it!"

Jim gaped at the heavy, lop-sided object in his palm. The gold-hued nugget was as big as an olive. "Why…why this is gold!" He looked over at Tess. "You got this out of Plum Creek?"

She gave her father a remorseful glance. "Lots of 'em. They're eggs— _Daddy_ knows."

Over by the kitchen, T'Naisa's hand rose to her mouth. The room went absolutely quiet.

 _Daddy knows?_ Jim's heart began to thud. Slowly he turned and set the nugget on the chess board. Spock focused on it, his face devoid of all expression as Jim waited in vain for him to speak. At last Jim's anger flared. "All those hours we've spent together. 'So Spock, what's new?' Nothing about _this_. But I get it. The gold isn't new. It's been lying up there in the ground for a long time, hasn't it? All those years while I owned the property, while my Uncle Lem owned it…"

"Jim," Antonia pleaded.

Ignoring her, he rose and confronted the Vulcan. "You're the one financing that Yanashite expansion, aren't you? And then you up and paid off the mortgage. Funny what I said that day. 'Struck gold, did you?' And you just gave me that look. You just stood there and gave me that damn closed look, same as now. Why? Did you think I'd be jealous? Think I'd say that it rightfully belongs to the Kirks, so we deserve a cut? Were you afraid that you'd have to share the wealth?"

Spock's downcast eyes flamed with tautly controlled emotion.

Antonia said, "Jim! You sound as if you _want_ that gold—as if you feel _entitled_ to it!"

Jim glowered as Spock slowly stood and met his gaze.

Icily Spock declared, "We will be leaving now. The gold is at the upper spring. Help yourself to it."

Fighting tears, T'Naisa put off her apron and took Tess by the hand. Without another word, the three of them went out the door.

"Jim…" Antonia sighed as if everything were his fault.

Tru was pale and silent, but Sam spoke up loudly, his eyes coveting the nugget on the chessboard. "It's mine, Daddy! It is!"

Jim gave him a swat on the seat of his pants and then left the house in a temper.

oooo

Dust billowed as Spock raised the family's skimmer from Kirk's pad. His face was set hard as granite, his hands clamped tightly on the controls.

Seated beside him, T'Naisa turned and looked into the backseat where their daughter was sniffling over her loss. "Tess! How many times have we told you to keep quiet about those 'eggs'!"

The child burst into sobs.

"Let her be," Spock said curtly. "We are through with secrecy. Tess, those nuggets are not eggs as you believe; they are a valuable type of metal called gold."

Tess cried even harder. "No birdies, then? Not ever?"

In a few moments they were home.

Short of the porch steps, T'Naisa stopped Spock with a touch and asked, "What are you going to do?"

"Call T'Beth and Simon," he answered. "They, too, must know."

"I mean Jim," she said. "What are you going to do about him?"

Spock strode into the cabin and shut the door harder than necessary.

oooo

Jim drove his car aimlessly. As dusk settled over the mountains, a scattering of clouds brought an uncomfortable touch of humidity. The car slowed automatically on the outskirts of a small settlement. Every business except one was shuttered for the holiday. Jim felt drawn to the lighted tavern with its half-empty parking lot. _What sort of people hung out in bars on Thanksgiving Day? Dim lighting, soft music, and ample liquor to ease their pain…_

Resisting the temptation, he veered away and continued driving. Tall timber loomed black against the velvety sky. Venus came into view as he reached the meadowland where a neighbor pastured some Arabian horses. There Jim eased his car to the ground and got out. The light was failing fast. Beyond the fence line, a creamy stallion pricked his ears and eyed him warily, scenting out this new potential danger to his harem of mares. They were beautiful animals, but Jim was too full of resentment to appreciate them fully. He could not shake the feeling that Spock had betrayed him. It was not about the money; couldn't everyone see that?

For a long while he stood motionless, dredging up memory after memory of Spock's insular Vulcan ways. What sort of friend walled himself off like that? Over the years they had willingly endangered their lives for one another, yet Spock seldom opened himself. No matter how Jim tried to explain it away, he kept arriving at the same bitter conclusion. Deep down Spock did not trust him. Things had been different in the Nexus, and the thought of that blissful, alluring world tempted him more strongly than any liquor.

A sudden, very real gust of wind roused him, and he found the sky half-covered with a thick layer of clouds. Storms sometimes came quickly in these mountains. A drop of moisture struck him as he was getting into the car. _Rain. It was about time._

oooo

Tess was in bed, asleep. Some replicated food and a bath had calmed her, but out in the living area, tension ran high.

Spock was standing at the window when he said, "There is an ancient Vulcan adage. 'He who sells to a friend, collects payment from an enemy'. Buying this property from Kirk was a mistake. We must move—the sooner, the better."

 _"Move?"_ T'Naisa's heart seized and she leaped to her feet. She had loved this wooded haven from the first moment she set eyes on it. "No! This is our home. You're not running us out of here just because you and Jim had a misunderstanding."

Turning, Spock looked upon her as if she, too, had become an enemy. "A misunderstanding? Was it not clear to you? He feels that the gold rightfully belongs to him. Well, he can have it."

"Jim didn't say that. He's only upset because you didn't confide in him. He isn't thinking about that old undercurrent of anti-Vulcan bigotry, and how a gold strike could stir up C.U.E. Just try and explain things. Tell him you have a responsibility to the Yanashites. Then maybe he'll understand."

His eyes narrowed. "Must friendship preclude all privacy? I will not explain myself to him."

"Oh, you won't?" She huffed with frustration. "Then try doing it for Tess. This mountain is the only home she's ever known."

"Children adapt," he countered. "A change in environment might actually be beneficial."

"You can't believe that," T'Naisa exclaimed. "And what about Jamie and his future? That gold is helping him get a start."

"He will manage on his own."

She shook her head in disbelief. "Just like that. It all seems so easy to you. Spock, I think you need to go meditate."

His hands clenched ominously at his sides and he warned, "Do not presume to advise me."

Shaken, T'Naisa left him and went out into the dark. Clouds were billowing, and a warm restless wind kept turning on itself. Sinking down on the porch steps, she lowered her head into her hands. It had been a long time since she had seen her husband so angry. The frightening specter of Bendii Syndrome loomed in her mind. Was his medication failing? Was this heated obstinacy a bout of wounded feelings or the forerunner of a medical crisis?

The clouds lit from a thunderous storm that matched her turbulent mood. Well, she could be obstinate, too. If Spock refused to see reason, she would take matters into her own hands. What was it that he had said in the skimmer? _We are through with secrecy._ Fine, then. She would go find Jim and explain everything. While she was at it, she would also explain how Spock's daily dose of medication needed regular adjustment and how unpleasant symptoms sometimes affected his behavior. If Jim was any kind of friend, he would want to know that, too.

Determined to act, she rose from the steps, but her feet refused to move. Could she really violate her husband's sense of privacy? Violate his trust?

A streak of lightning drew her attention. She counted off the seconds until the rumble came. Closer, this time. Wheeling, she ran into the cabin.

"Spock!" she called, but he was already standing at the control panel in a corner of the kitchen.

After countless hours spent tinkering with starship shield technology, his experimental field generator was ready to test. As designed, the shield would neutralize aerial lightning strikes and disrupt the electrical charge that made some bolts rise from the ground. Among the panel's controls were two implementation switches. T'Naisa watched Spock activate the primary storm shield that would protect their property. His hand moved to the other switch and hovered for a beat before engaging the secondary field. So he was not thinking only of himself, after all. Relieved, she crossed the cozy little kitchen and threw her arms around him.

Gently returning her embrace, he said, "I should not have spoken to you in so harsh a manner…but meditation alone will not resolve this issue."

"Just give it a little time," she pleaded. "That's all I'm asking."

oooo

The sprinkling of raindrops quickly dried on Jim's windshield. As he headed home, multiple flashes illuminated the clouds, sending jagged streaks of lightning downward. The air itself seemed to rumble. It looked like a bad one. Worried, he pressed the car for more speed. As he glided toward the ranch, he smelled smoke. Rounding a corner, he spied a tree in flames and reported it on the fly. Then, up ahead, he glimpsed an eerie light shimmering along the boundary of his ranch. His stomach lurched before he realized that it was not a fire. Slowing to a near hover, he watched lightning bolts discharge harmlessly on a pale blue curtain protecting his property.

"Damn," he muttered.

Last spring he had mentioned the feasibility of a storm screen to Spock—just once, when the dry spell first began. It had been during another chess game, and Spock had merely raised an eyebrow and proceeded to capture Jim's rook. In snatches of conversation, they had theorized an energy envelope that intercepted electricity and rendered it harmless. Jim had all but given up on the idea until the game ended and Spock said, "Perhaps it could be done." In response, Jim had stretched his legs and asked, "You really think so?" And that was the end of it—or so it had seemed to him.

Moving on, he arrived at the yard where Antonia, Tru, and Sam were staring at the spectacular display overhead.

"Daddy, look!" cried Sam, jumping up and down in his pajamas.

Antonia's arm rose in a sweeping gesture. "Jim, what _is_ that?"

"Vulcan fireworks," he sighed, leaving the car.

She eyed him with suspicion, as if expecting to smell liquor on his breath, but at least in that regard his conscience was clear. He watched the storm with his family until a sudden torrent of hail pelted down. Together they ran for the porch. The temperature plummeted, and in a few short minutes the yard was covered in ice. Then the clouds broke apart and the storm shield disappeared as if someone had worked a switch.

oooo

After the storm passed, T'Naisa turned off the shields and lingered alone in the kitchen, brewing a pot of coffee. Though Spock had acted to protect Jim's property, he was still adamant about moving. They would sell the land back to Jim for exactly what they had paid. "To the penny."

For tonight, she had decided to let the matter drop. Perhaps Spock would see things differently in the light of a new day. After all, this was not the first time Spock had been at odds with his former captain. They were more like brothers than friends…and what brothers didn't argue now and then?

She was pouring a steaming mugful of coffee when she heard the hum of a skimmer flying low, coming in closer. Stepping to the window, she drew the curtain aside and saw running lights sweep their landing pad. The accumulated hail sparkled as the skimmer settled to a stop and went silent. A lone figure approached the cabin, footsteps crunching until the porch light revealed his face.

Kirk!

This was not good. This was not good at all.

Her coffee forgotten, she hurried over to the living area where Spock was busy at the computer researching properties.

"Jim's here," she said.

Outwardly, he gave no indication that he had even heard, but she knew better. The marital bond they shared fairly sizzled with pent emotion.

Jim reached the porch and stamped the ice from his boots. Then he knocked.

T'Naisa's heart raced. She saw no choice but to respond and pray to God that Jim had not been stoking his anger with Saurian brandy. Not even pretending to smile, she went to the door and eased it open. There Jim stood, bundled in a jacket, his left hand holding a sack.

Grimly he said, "Is Spock still up?"

T'Naisa nodded. She could not bear to watch. Letting Jim inside, she retreated to the bedroom and began to pray as if her future at Plum Creek depended upon it—which in fact, it likely did.

oooo

The cabin was somewhere between Vulcan-warm and hot-as-hell. Jim shrugged off his coat, and still gripping the sack, went over to the computer. Spock stared intently at some business on the screen. The room was so dimly lit that the computer glow seemed bright on the Vulcan's stony face.

Taking a deep breath, Jim said, "I thought you might be hungry. I am." He lifted the sack into view. "Turkey sandwiches. And for you, turkey sandwiches without the turkey."

Spock's brow rose ever-so-slightly, but his eyes did not leave the screen. Then he said, "We have food here."

Jim settled in a nearby chair. _Where to begin?_ He wished they could just step back in time and start the day over, before he went off half-cocked. By now he should be used to Spock and his insular ways, but sometimes it still riled him. Things like that gold caper—and even the damned storm shield, if he let himself think about it too deeply.

"Funny thing," he mused. "I would never have thought the shield would be so beautiful. Spock, you probably saved my ranch from a lot of damage…and I'm very grateful. But you could have told me." Frustration crept into his voice and he leaned forward. "You could have _told_ me. But let me guess. You were 'not disposed to discuss matters of a technical nature'."

Spock sat back. His gaze left the computer and settled on his hands. "I would have told you on your birthday."

 _A birthday present!_ All at once, Jim felt very foolish.

"As for the gold…" Spock continued.

Jim quickly cut him off. "Never mind the gold. I don't want it. What I want is a friend who can confide in me."

Spock's head bowed. Quietly he said, "I have never removed a single ounce of gold from that creek. It was Tess who discovered it, and we found good reasons for maintaining secrecy. But there was another reason that I shared with no one…not even T'Naisa. From the beginning I experienced a vague sense of disquiet, as if the gold did not really belong to me. I wanted James to use it all for his future, but he would only accept half of whatever he extracted. As you suspected, all the rest has gone to finance the Yanashite expansion."

Jim looked at Spock's guilty face and laughed aloud. "So you thought you _were_ stealing the Kirk gold? Why, you old pirate!"

"Claim jumper is more apt a term," Spock corrected.

oooo

T'Naisa stood with her ear pressed to the door, straining to hear the men's barely audible voices, but she could scarcely make out a word. Then came a burst of laughter, followed closely by the scrape of a chair. The laugh had been Jim's, no doubt meant to be derisive. Now things might get truly ugly—perhaps even degenerate into physical violence.

T'Naisa's heart froze, but all was quiet again. She gave them another ten minutes, then cracked the door open and peeked out. Spock and Jim sat at the dining table, eating sandwiches as a holographic projection glowed in the air between them. She recognized the technical layout of Spock's storm shield design.

Jim saw her and swallowed a mouthful of food. Hoisting a mug, he said, "Great coffee, T'Naisa. Toni sent over some turkey sandwiches and pie. Want some?"

She could hardly believe it. The two of them…sitting there calmly eating together, as if nothing unusual had happened. Weak from relief, she came over and settled into a chair. Suddenly she was hungry—ravenously hungry. Accepting a turkey sandwich, she offered a heartfelt prayer of thanksgiving, and then peeled back the wrapper.

oooOOooo


End file.
